Sleep didn't happen.
Ethan tried. Closed his eyes. Counted backward from a hundred.
Got to seventy-three before the cultist's face showed up.
That wet sound. The exhale.
He opened his eyes.
The hammock was—okay, objectively, it was comfortable. Which was fucked up. Because nothing made of living vines should feel like a memory foam mattress, but here he was, cradled in something that pulsed faintly under his spine.
He tried again at 1 AM.
Failed at 1:07.
Gave up at 4.
His LE had climbed to 267/500 overnight.
Passive regeneration.
The Seed still growing.
He could feel it in his chest. Not painful. Just—there. Second heartbeat pulsing slightly out of sync with the first.
"You're up early."
Ethan turned.
Mira stood three feet away. Dark tactical pants. Black shirt that looked military-issue. Hair pulled back in that same efficient style.
Eyes flat. Assessing.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Get used to it. Verdant Users don't need as much sleep as baseline humans. Four hours average once you're integrated."
"I'm not—"
"You're integrating whether you like it or not." Mira gestured toward the central tree. "Come on. Training starts now."
"You said 0600."
"I lied. Keeps you sharp."
The training area was near the eastern edge. Dirt floor packed flat. Marked with circles drawn in something that glowed faint green.
Twenty wooden dummies in rows. Each one human-sized. Covered in scorch marks, claw gouges, bullet holes.
"Your goal," Mira said, stopping in the center circle, "is immobilize one dummy using ROOT SNARE without killing it."
Ethan blinked.
"Without—"
"Killing it. Yes." Mira's expression stayed flat. "You killed three Thornbound by draining them dry. Effective but sloppy. If you can't control how much LE you take, you're a liability."
"I didn't mean to—"
"Doesn't matter." She pointed at the nearest dummy. "Immobilize. Don't destroy. Thirty seconds. Go."
First attempt: disaster.
Ethan pressed his palm against the dummy's chest. Focused on roots growing.
The dummy exploded.
Not metaphorically.
Exploded.
Vines erupted from the dirt with enough force to shred the wood into splinters. One piece hit Ethan in the shoulder hard enough to bruise.
[LE: 267→219 (-48)]
[Efficiency: 12%]
"Again."
Second attempt: worse.
He tried being gentler. Focusing on control instead of power.
The vines grew.
Slowly.
So slowly the dummy just stood there while thin tendrils wrapped around its base like lazy snakes.
[LE: 219→196 (-23)]
[Efficiency: 8%]
"Again."
By the tenth attempt his hands were shaking.
LE at 142/500.
Critical territory.
"I can't—"
"You can." Mira's voice hadn't changed. Still flat. Clinical. "Stop thinking. Just tell the Seed what you want."
"It doesn't work—"
"It does. The Seed is part of you. It wants to grow. You give it direction."
Ethan stared at the dummy.
Vision blurring at the edges.
Low LE.
He'd felt this before. In the forest. Right before—
(No. Focus.)
Palm against the dummy's chest.
Immobilize. Don't kill. Just hold.
The vines grew.
Fast—
Too fast—
He pulled back mentally. Imagined reins. Imagined control.
The vines slowed.
Wrapped around legs. Torso. Arms.
Squeezed.
Not crushing.
Holding.
[LE: 142→114 (-28)]
[Efficiency: 43%]
The dummy stayed intact.
Ethan exhaled.
"Better."
Not praise.
Observation.
"Again."
By attempt twenty his LE was at 89/500.
Dangerous.
World felt muted. Colors less vibrant. Sounds distant.
"Enough." Mira walked over. Handed him a canteen. "Drink."
Water inside was cold. Tasted faintly of mint.
LE ticked up:
[LE: 89→92 (+3)]
Not much. But enough to stay conscious.
"How do I get it back?"
"Rest. Food. Sunlight near a Verdant node." Mira took the canteen. "Or drain something living."
Casual.
Like it was normal.
"I'm not draining anyone."
Mira's expression didn't change.
"You will. When you have to." She turned toward the dummy. "Twenty attempts. Forty-three percent max efficiency. You need eighty minimum."
"Or?"
"Or you die next time Thorne sends a team."
Rest of the morning: blur.
Mira drilled ROOT SNARE until his hands felt like lead. Then moved to THORN SPEAR—faster, sharper, more accurate.
Success rate: abysmal.
Four hits out of thirty attempts.
"You're overthinking."
Fifteenth time she'd said it.
"I'm trying—"
"Trying isn't enough. Thornbound won't wait while you decide. They'll put a bullet in your head."
Ethan wanted to snap back.
Wanted to tell her maybe if she explained instead of barking orders—
But his LE was 68/500.
Too tired to argue.
Noon.
Mira called break.
Ethan collapsed. Chest heaving. Vision swimming.
[LE: 68/500]
[⚠ Critical - recommend rest/supplement]
"Eat." Mira dropped a cloth bag next to him.
Inside: three dark green spheres. Grape-sized. Smelled sweet. Floral.
"What—"
"Verdant supplements. Concentrated LE. Thirty points each."
Ethan picked one up.
Soft. Squishy.
Bit into it.
Taste overwhelmed him.
Like biting into pure spring. Grass and flowers and sunlight compressed into one fruit.
LE jumped:
[LE: 68→98]
Second one:
[LE: 98→128]
Third:
[LE: 128→158]
Vision cleared.
Exhaustion faded.
Not gone. Manageable.
"Better?"
Ethan nodded.
Mira sat across from him.
For the first time all day her expression softened.
Slightly.
"You're doing better than expected."
Ethan blinked.
"What?"
"Most new Users can't manage twenty percent efficiency first day. You hit forty-three." Pause. "Not bad."
Not praise.
But close.
Something in Ethan's chest unclenched.
"Thanks."
Mira nodded once.
Stood.
"Rest thirty minutes. Then we go again."
Attempt forty-seven: same as the previous forty-six.
Failure.
LE at 134/500. Dropping fast.
Hands shaking.
"I can't—"
"You can."
"I can't!" Sharper than intended. "Six hours. Barely fifty percent. This isn't working."
Mira's expression didn't change.
"So you're quitting."
"I'm not—"
"You are. Deciding it's too hard. Giving up."
Ethan glared.
"I'm trying—"
"Trying isn't enough." Mira stepped closer. "Thornbound won't care you're tired. Thorne won't care you're frustrated. They'll kill you, drain your body for research, move on."
Flat.
Factual.
"Either you learn control or you die." She pointed at the dummy. "One more."
Ethan stared.
Forty-eighth dummy in six hours.
LE: 134/500.
Hands shaking.
Vision blurring.
But something in Mira's voice—
That flat certainty—
Pissed him off.
Fine.
Palm against chest.
ROOT SNARE.
This time he didn't think about control.
Didn't think about efficiency.
Just thought:
Hold it.
Vines erupted.
Not explosive. Not slow.
Surgical.
Wrapped around legs, torso, throat. Squeezed just tight enough.
[LE: 134→106 (-28)]
[Efficiency: 93%]
The vines held.
Didn't overgrow. Didn't wither.
Just—held.
Ethan stared.
"...Not bad."
He turned.
Mira stood five feet away. Arms crossed.
But her mouth—
Corner of her lips had moved.
Two millimeters.
Which for Mira Chen was basically a standing ovation.
"Again."
But softer this time.
Or maybe he was hallucinating from exhaustion.
"Yeah." Ethan straightened. "Again."